Thursday, February 25, 2010


Offline

One after the other,
the birds came.

All white
all chaste
all blank.

One spoke of empty rhymes
and blind ballads
another, of blisters
that grew crimson with the setting sun.

One wept of feathers
lost in a molten barrage of scalded dreams
and yet another rested its beak in mire.

One said, "I've flown over rusted, demented kingdoms
and blood-soaked flower beds".

His brother, with claws blunted
from perching long on sunburnt spikes,
remembered a drop of wild nectar.

One stepped out of line,
indecisive.




Photograph courtesy Pallavi Pandey


7 comments:

Sowmya said...

You could not have chosen a better picture for that title :)

Tinker Belle said...

Was it the picture which inspired the poem? :D

Pramshanks said...

@ Sowmya: yes, the birds just arranged themselves for the poem.

@ Lolo: I mreally don't know;the birds came from some strange place as did the poem!

Saro said...

your muses must be talking to you then.. that's where the poem came from :0)

Pramshanks said...

Saro, the muses, the birds, poems... they are all one and the same!

Kiran said...

Struck me as the opposite of Jonathan Livingston seagull,yet... so similar... feel like that indecisive one ever so often...
Also loved the title :-)

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